


Jumble

by mizuirokandeya



Series: King And Lionheart Verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hybrid!Blaine, mentions of previous death of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizuirokandeya/pseuds/mizuirokandeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Klaine Advent prompt 'jumble'. Continuation of my fill for the prompt 'guide' which you can find <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5377469">here</a> and you should read first. (Prepare for sadness)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumble

Kurt sighs when he finally closes the front door behind himself. He leans back against it for a second and closes his eyes. The persistent throb of his headache lessens a little now that he’s finally in the peace and quiet of his home. With all the hubbub going on at work, he’s always glad when he gets home. Not that their home life is any less jumbled right now.

It’s been hard since Pam’s death. 

Ever since Blaine had gotten the phone call he’s been absent. He’s been there but not there. 

The days they spent in Ohio for the funeral, Blaine trailed behind him like a lost child without speaking a single word. There were tears, so many tears, and hugs and stories but Blaine had just watched from his side and not said a thing. Not even when Tracy and Hepburn had finally arrived. He’d only pulled them close and not let them out of his sight for longer than necessary. 

Even when Hepburn had come home with them at Kurt’s insistence, skipping a few days of college to spend some time with them, it hadn’t helped. Kurt had thought it would. He had been so sure that keeping at least part of their own family close would help Blaine in some way. 

But it didn’t. Ultimately it just led to more tears — Hepburn was only twenty-two and what had Kurt thought, pushing his own son into a situation that even he, at more than double his age, wasn’t sure how to deal with. The day that Hepburn had left again, was the first time since the phone call that Kurt let himself break down. 

He’d hidden himself away in his office and cried until he couldn’t. He’d cried for himself, for Blaine, for the unfairness that was Pam’s sudden death, for the luck he had that his own father was still alive and for his children who had to deal with death in their own family for the time.

When Kurt had joined Blaine in their bed that night, eyes still red rimmed, Blaine had stared at him for a long time before he’d started crying and said, “I love you.” It had been his first words since that day and Kurt had started crying, too. They ended up having sex and it had been desperate and messy and salty, much-needed comfort and closeness and for just a moment everything was okay again.

The days following had been easier. Blaine was talking again, even if only sparsely and he stopped hiding in the bedroom all day. Kurt kept him distracted enough, so that her death wasn’t always at the forefront of his mind but let him have his moments of peace, so that he had the chance to mourn.

But then Kurt had to go back to work and everything had gone back to shit.

At first Kurt had asked some of their friends to spend some time with Blaine, just a few times a week — with Blaine’s consent of course. He would have never forced their friends on him if Blaine thought I’d be too much for him. But most of them had their own places to be and the visits had been short and then Blaine had just stopped answering the door bell. After it had happened a few times he’d quietly confessed to Kurt, that he wanted too but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

It’s been a month since then and while on some days Kurt gets home to Blaine going through old scrapbooks or listlessly watching TV, most of the time he finds him hiding in bed.

Today the living room is quiet again and Kurt discards his jacket and shoes halfheartedly at the front door before going directly to the bedroom. It’s dark in there, curtains pulled close, to keep the bright summer sun and it’s heat out. Blaine’s ears are turned towards the door, so at least he’s awake. The container of food and the water bottle, Kurt left on the nightstand this morning, are both mostly empty and Kurt can’t help the pleased noise he makes. 

Kurt kneels down next to the bed on Blaine’s side and brushes a hand over his head.

“Hey honeybee.” 

Blaine’s eyes blink open and he smiles. It’s a small and short one but lately Kurt has learned to cherish every single one. So he returns it and presses a kiss to his forehead. Blaine sighs, pulling the blanket up a little higher.

“Bad day again?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “My manager called.”

“He’s pushing again, isn’t he?”

“He’s just doing his job, while I’m not doing mine.”

“Blaine, you know that that’s not true.”

“Well, it still feels like it.” Blaine voice sounds snappy and he rolls over onto his other side.

Kurt wants to say something else but at the same time he doesn’t want to make it any worse. So he sighs, pushes himself up and says “I’m gonna go make dinner. Join me if you feel up to it?”

Blaine doesn’t answer and Kurt makes sure to close the door all the way behind himself.

When he steps into the kitchen, all he can focus on is the mess left over from yesterday's cooking. It’s not big but it’s there and it’s bugging him. So he decides on something quick to make for today. Pasta with some cheese and premade tomato sauce has to be enough and leaves him time to clean up while everything is cooking.

So Kurt washes the dishes and checks on the food while keeping an ear open for footsteps — always hoping that Blaine will join him. But they don’t come, so even after the food is ready, he keeps himself busy with drying the dishes. He isn’t really paying attention anymore, just going through the mindless task, so it’s no wonder that the slippery and heavy glass bowl slides right through his fingers and drops with a loud crash to the floor. He sighs, mostly annoyed with himself, and just stays where he is, taking deep breaths.

It’s the wrong thing to do. The urge to cry comes suddenly and he has no chance to stop the tears. He’s crying and it’s shaking his whole body. He tries wiping the tears away but they just keep coming, so he presses his face into his hands and sobs.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, but at some point he feels Blaine’s hand carefully lift his feet into his house shoes, mindful of the broken glass, and then he’s being led out of the kitchen. In the living room he sinks into the couch. It takes a moment but then Blaine settles on his lap and pulls him close, rocking him softly back and forth. Kurt clutches Blaine’s shirt in his hands, presses his face into his neck and cries.

It takes a while but when he’s mostly done with crying, Kurt starts talking, voice rough and muffled against Blaine’s skin. “I’m exhausted and tired and I don’t know what to do anymore, Blaine. I want to help you get better but I don’t know how. It feels like you’re slipping through my fingers and I am forced to watch without being able to do anything.” He pulls back and looks at Blaine, who’s biting his lip, a feeble attempt not to cry. “I just miss you so much. I miss really talking with you. I miss singing with you. I miss listening to you purr. I even miss cleaning the house with you. And it’s not like I don’t want you to grieve at your own pace but this doesn’t feel like just grieving anymore. It hasn’t in a long time and I just-” He breaks off, lifts a hand to wipe away fresh tears. “I just need you to help me out here, just a tiny bit.”

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Blaine brings out in response before he breaks down and then they are both crying, clinging to each other. 

They don’t talk a lot directly after that. At some point they clean up, eat some of the cold pasta and clean up the mess the glass bowl left. But only when they’re hidden away in the dark of the bedroom again, do they continue talking about it. They don’t cry again, but there are promises of “I’ll try” sealed with kisses and whispered “I love you’s”. 

(When Kurt comes home from work three days later there is a sticky note on the refrigerator with the name of their doctor, a time and a date and Kurt starts crying. But this time the tears are out of happiness. Because this is a start in the right direction.)

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog on [Tumblr](http://mizuirokandeya.tumblr.com/post/134960730847/jumble)


End file.
